After Destruction
by PennyForTheGuy
Summary: How many times can a person pick up and start again after their life is swallowed by chaos?
1. Chapter 1

Hollie was bringing the fresh milk in when the necropolis appeared over Havenshire. How she managed to hang on to the bucket as she ran for the house she'd never know, but the majority sloshed onto the grass, and then the floor as she ducked inside and bolted the door.

Her sisters and parents came up only minutes later. They broke chairs and nailed them over the windows only leaving the tiniest cracks to peer outside. They could see the small number of laborers forced to keep working while an even smaller number of soldiers gather at the foot of Death's Reach. The Scourge moved its forces into position with unsettling speed and ease. Skeletal archers began raining down black arrows. Each sharp thud of one of them hitting the roof of their small house made Hollie jump.

Her older sister Moira tried to keep her calm, she tried to keep everyone calm. Moira was always the strongest girl, the most level headed. Little Blossom cowered in a corner, shaking and muttering invocations to the Light like mantras. On Death's Reach they could just see the Scourge command tents, and the geists and ghouls making their way down the hill for the first assaults.

At first they thought the Scarlet forces might hold out, they seemed to easily drive back the mindless minions. A piercing scream caught their attention and the family rushed to the window. What Hollie saw truly made her blood run cold. One of the laborers had been reduced to little more than a ragged pile of meat by a draenei woman in black, ice-coated armor. Her breath chilled the warm air and from beneath her hood her eyes glowed with unholy magics.

The Lich King was sending a virtual army of death knights down the Reach, and they easily swept away the forces guarding Havenshire. Other were already beginning to flee towards new Avalon. Hollie's father froze for a few moments as the arrow strikes intensified.

"Girls! Up! Now!"

Moira dragged the still quivering Blossom out of the corner and their father and mother gave them one last hug.

"Run for the town, with all the strength you have, run."

Blossom and Moira protested, Hollie hardly had the will to speak. Their father kicked them out the door and screamed at them, it was only a poisoned saronite arrow landing at their feet that made them fly. Moira and Hollie moved fast, but Blossom fell behind quickly. Moira was just doubling back when they heard Blossom scream.

Ahead of them they saw three death knights corning a dozen villagers. Moira pulled Hollie through a barn. For a moment they ducked behind the hay and got some air back into their burning lungs.

"Halfway there." Moira heaved, "Fly with me Hollie."

They dove out of the barn as the last few villagers were slaughtered, weaving around houses trying to stay hidden. Finally New Avalon came into sight, its white and crimson cloaked guards standing strong by the gates. Moira got ahead of Hollie and bolted down the road towards the town. Just as she passed the last house a blast of wind stopped her cold, literally. She was half frozen as a gleaming blade flashed through the air. Moira fell over, missing almost all of her right side.

Hollie herself froze as an elf in the same, blood soaked, ice-coated black armor stepped out from behind the house. His aura was different, whereas others chilled the air around them, he soaked it in the smell of fear and death. Moira's shattered corpse twitched, and he dove his giant blade into her head. Hollie retched as she watched him pull it back out of her sister's skull.

As he lifted his head she could feel him looking at her even before she saw his glacial eyes appear from beneath his hood. The ground quivered and froze as he took slow, deliberate steps towards her the very path seeming to darken as he got closer. Hollie's chest seized and her legs bucked, she fell to the hard earth and could only watch as he walked up to her and lifted his sword.

Without warning he hesitated. His eyes closed for the briefest moment and he nodded, as if to an unseen command. The look in his eyes changed, she was no longer prey to be toyed with she was simply something in the way of the next task. He lifted his blade again and sliced her. Blood poured forth and she slumped over.

* * *

><p>Something thick and hot was passing through her mouth. She heard shuffling around here and could feel small cold breezes passing her by. She could still hear the burning of buildings and bodies and the occasional dying scream. She was dead, perhaps a ghost. Hollie wondered if she would be able to float out of her body, but then she felt a pain in her chest, like the sword was slicing through her yet again.<p>

She wasn't dead yet. The air was choked with ash, the sky had turned red from Havenshire burning, and the giests and ghouls that were assaulting her home had turned on New Avalon. Hollie's eyes cleared and she turned her head to see more ghouls feasting on the remains of her fellow villagers, fighting over scraps of flesh like beasts.

She never thought about escaping, she never planned any part of it; she just pushed herself on. She rolled over and started dragging herself over the ground, behind the wreckage of a house. She leaned against the charred wall and felt a new gush of blood down her chest. She finally dared to look, and bit back a cry. The death had been sloppy in his swing but that didn't make it less horrific.

The cut ran diagonally from left shoulder to the bottom right side of her ribs. The blade had severed one rib, nearly cut a few more along with her sternum, but her she was alive because her organs were largely unscathed. The blood was mostly coming from her right breast; her dress was nearly soaked with blood. Without caring about noise, she tore up her skirt and tried desperately to tie her chest together again.

The fight between the ghouls intensified, there were no more scraps left and they seemed to be turning on each other. Hollie tried to stand but felt like her chest was going to explode. She was forced to crawl on hands and knees. Just ahead she saw a stand of trees and made for those. She thanked the light the arrow barrages had stopped as she crawled past the wicked things; some stuck a foot in the ground other skewering yet more unlucky villagers.

She made it into the long grass just before the trees, pausing just a moment to take in a ragged breath then pushed forward. She got to the center of the stand and leaned against one of the trees. She felt relived, she was still in the middle of Scourge army with death all around her; it would only take one of them following her trail of blood to find her, but she still felt relieved.

For a while she just sat there, then she went to the remains of her skirt and tore of some more strips and tied them around her mauled chest. A fresh assault on New Avalon began thundering past her, lead by death knights mounted on terrifying skeletal Frost dragons. One blast of their icy breaths obliterated entire companies of Scarlet Crusaders, letting the armies charge in unfettered. More smoke filled the air, along with wailing cries as New Avalon fell.

Hollie's strength had abandoned her. She felt fresh trickles of blood winding down her chest and her vision began to blur again. She knew she shouldn't sleep but all she could think about was the relief it would bring. The pain from her wound was only growing and there was no more 'safe place' to try to run too. A great horn sounded from the harbor. It was likely the few ships docked taking away lucky survivors.

Hollie let her eyes close; the pain didn't leave her till she completely blacked out. Whether she ever woke or not she'd ceased to care.

* * *

><p>The Lich King was quick to abandon Death's Reach and New Avalon after the Battle for Light's Hope. The death knights who defected had little interest in the conquest, leaving to the Argent Crusade. A small company was sent into the still smoldering ruins to find what little was still useful and to lay the dead to rest. There were a few straggling undead, nothing the company couldn't handle. As they searched they found a few weapon stores that were abandoned, amazingly an apple tree had made it through, and one tiny section of the town hall was largely untouched, within which they found a small store of cured food.<p>

Outside the walls of New Avalon the land had been razed and saturated with taint. There was a small stand of pine trees that had miraculously survived the fires, just outside the wall. Private Ernst was sent to scout it, see if anything or any bodies had ended up there. He found the body of a young girl, her chest slashed open and crudely bound leaning against a tree.

"Poor thing," Ernst murmured, "Must have come in here hoping to be safe."

He gingerly put a hand to her forehead to give her a blessing. Her skin was still warm from the fires.

"Go to the Light in peace sister."

He moved his hand away and as he was getting up, saw her chest move. He was stunned a second, then dropped to his knees and ripped off a glove. He put his hand just over her mouth and after a moment felt a tiny, warm breath come from it. Ernst screamed for the nearest Paladin and put his hands to her chest and summoned all the healing magic he had.

Private Hammond came running up, Ernst told him to find the closest healer and bring them along with some men to help carry her. Hammond barreled back towards the company and Ernst kept channeling the magic into the girl's chest. She took a deeper breath and her eyelids fluttered.

"Please live." Ernst pleaded.

* * *

><p>Hollie woke up feeling like she was floating in mid-air. Her eyes felt like they were sealed shut and her chest could barely expand enough for her to take a breath. Slowly she managed to open her eyes and saw a white stone ceiling above her. She could hear people moving about beside and the occasional groans of other wounded. When she tried to take a deeper breath she gasped, her chest felt like it was splitting open again.<p>

A woman knelt down beside her and placed a hand over her, humming an incantation and summoning a healing silver light. With great effort Hollie turned her head to look at the healer. If she'd had the strength she would have done a double take. She was an elf, but like any elf she'd ever seen. No straight tall ears or delicate face, or well-preened hair. This elf had wild purple hair cascading over her shoulders, festooned with silver adornments and green leaves, her eyes glowed like moonlight, her ears were long and feral and her face, she looked younger than Hollie but somehow she seemed; ancient.

"Ishnu dal-dien, little one," she murmured in a motherly tone.

Hollie tried to lift her head and speak, but quickly found she had the energy for only one.

"Where am I?" she squeaked.

"Light's Hope Chapel. Some of the Argent Crusaders found you. You are lucky. A few moments more and you would have been beyond all aide."

"Was there…" Hollie choked. Her throat was bone dry and the pain in her chest was getting worse every second. The healer frowned and cast another spell over her charge. Hollie relaxed as the pain receded some.

"Rest now. You will heal, but give it time."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Reala and her party had been stuck in Thrallmar for nearly a week now. They'd had nothing to do but sit on their few bags and listen to that star struck ninny Martik wax on and on about the paradise of Netherstorm and Kael'thas's new fortress. About she found interesting in that was the rich mana resources and the rumor that the fortress was capable of moving to other planets. She imagined that Kael intended to load that giant ship up with mana (somehow) and sail it back to Quel'Thalas to save their people, perhaps even cleanse the Sunwell.

While the other were held rapt by the devotee's ramblings she kept to herself picturing a beautiful gemstone ship laden with magic energy sweeping down on the beleaguered kingdom of the elves and curing all their ills. Little more than childless fantasies she knew, but she had nothing better to do than sit and indulge them. When they first arrived she'd also taken to watching the other travelers but they had all long since left. There had only been one arrival since then. Personally sent by the Warchief according to the rumor mill.

An elf, but not like her and the other pilgrims. He was a death knight, an agent of the Scourge who had by some miracle separated from it. No one in Thrallmar really thought this elf was sent to the front of Outland because of his skill. He was here to die, if he could. Nazgrel and Shatterskull had been sending him on every bad mission they had. Problem was he kept coming back, and not empty handed. But now all were certain the abomination was doomed. Seregent Shatterskull had sent him into Fel Spark ravine to kill demons and lighten the assaults on Thrallmar. A task that needed doing; but by a company of warriors not a single elf.

As Reala sat daydreaming she heard the panting and pattering that signaled the worg mounted patrol coming in. 'Of all the creatures to ride' she thought as they galloped in, huffing and drooling 'why giant wolves? They have the oddest gait I've ever seen and they're stupid to boot.' As if it could hear her musings a worg looked up and cocked its head at her, whining. Reala looked away. 'Perhaps not stupid, mangy certainly.'

The last few worgs and their riders filed into the fortress town and the gates started to be closed for the night. It took upwards of 15 minutes and ten orcs to close those massive wooden walls and another 8 minutes and two kodos to open them again. Just as they were halfway shut one of the trolls shouted for them to stop. Reala and the others elves picked up on the sound too, and soon it was apparent to every one. There was a single horse galloping towards town.

All waited quietly for the horse to come into sight. One of the other pilgrims spoke up.

"No one else went out on a horse today. Two gold says it's that death knight's steed with no rider."

"He's always come back before," said a tauren woman.

"I will too," said an orc, "One death knight against a nest of demons, he got torn apart in minutes."

The blood elf man nodded to the both of them, and a grizzled orcish veteran walked up to the gates.

"I'll get in on this," he said slowly "but I say he comes back with not a wound on him. I've fought the Burning Legion and the Scourge in my time, a lone demon might go down hard but I've never seen anything like a death knight. I've known warriors who abandoned us to had a chance at the power and strength they saw in the death knights."

Not long after those words left his mouth the horse and rider appeared out of the constant smoky haze. Just as the old solider predicted the death knight appeared unscathed as he rode into Thrallmar.

"No one else coming in. You can close the gates." His voice was as icy as his face. Had he been alive the females might have swooned over him. He had an aristocratic face and wonderful bone structure but his flesh and skin clung to those bones so he always looked something between normal man and living skeleton. His skin was white as chalk and his long, light colored hair was matted with ice even in the insufferable heat of Hellfire Peninsula.

As his dismounted Reala rubbed her exposed for arms, she could feel the hair standing up on her skin. His presence sucked the heat from the air. He strode across the compound with his black silk cloak following him like a trail of blood and shadows.

The old orc hit the elf man's chest and turned his palm out for his gold. The elf gave it up then stomped back over to the other pilgrims. Reala's eyes lingered on the death knight as he entered the head quarters.

Nazgrel wasn't surprised to see the death knight return. He'd stopped being surprised after he came back toting extra wood and metal from the fortifications of Hellfire Ramparts, along with several fel orc tusks.

"Rune, was it?" Nazgrel asked. A commander of men he was still terrible with names. At least he could remember ranks.

The cold elf nodded and threw a bit of armor on the stone table.

"From a Dreadlord in the ravine. And these…" he dumped some severed claws and fel tainted stones next to it, "from the other demons he commanded."

Nazgrel stared at the items a moment, then cleared his throat.

"Rune, you don't have to bring back proof of your kills every time. I'm sure that your…former master may have demanded such tokens but we have no need or want of them. The attacks on our walls have nearly stopped and for me at least that is proof enough."

The other tacticians and dignitaries nodded in agreement. Magister Bloodhawk regarded Rune with a curious look. He'd been trying to talk to him since he arrived, he was the only one who wasn't terrified or repulsed by him.

"Rune, surely you have a real name."

Rune showed expression for the first time since he arrived. His brow furrowed and leaned against the table, growling in annoyance.

"You have pestered me about this since I came here, and I tell you again my name is Rune. The name I had when I lived is of no importance."

"You are a blood elf and…"

"I am a death knight," Rune turned his unsettling gaze on him, "A walking corpse in cased in Saronite with a free mind, nothing else."

Bloodhawk heaved a sigh and turned back to the leather maps and parchments scrawled with reports. Nazgrel gave Rune his next set of assignments and dismissed him.

He headed for the inn though he had no need of beds or drink there. Inside the sturdy stone building he haggled over the many items he'd pulled from demon corpses. His intimidating presence helped, no trader tried very hard to short change him. There were many off duty grunts and tired travelers partaking the beds and refreshments within. Many wary glances and dirty looks were shot his way, those eyes followed him even as he stepped out.

Rune had no need of rest unless wounded, but had no choice but to wait until the gates opened again. His horse Frosthoof was waiting patiently for him by the barn. Like him the animal had no need of rest or food but went there purely out of habit. The keepers shoed him away from it every time, they didn't like him making their worgs, wyverns and kodos nervous.

Rune patted Frosthoof's neck as he approached, then opened one of the saddlebags and took out his polish and rags. He sat down on the dusty earth and began rubbing the blood and tissue from his blade. His muscles knew these movements even when he was alive it took no thought to give extra attention to the caked on muck or the stained bits of metal. The runes that gave him his name glowed menacingly on the great blade like leering faces.

They gave him his power, and gave his blade a second edge in battle. Soon the steel gleamed and caught even the weak light from the double moons. Rune placed it back in the leather scabbard on his back and removed his spaulders. His armor would get the same treatment, but he only ever removed what he had too. He tsked when he saw a large dent in the heavy saronite. He'd need to go back to Ebon Hold to have it fixed properly.

He gave his armor the best polishing he could while removing as little as possible. Thrallmar would not accept his presence; no matter how many demons he killed. He could assault and demolish Hellfire Citadel by himself and they would still be wary of him. He simply wanted to earn the necessary points for assignment in Northrend.

Rune asked for first thing but Garrosh turned him down. But he could still get the appointment he wanted. He just had to rack up some service in Outland to qualify. It was annoying but if it could get him in the fight against the Lich King, well, any other knight of Ebon Hold would agree it was worth it.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Ships larger than any Hollie had ever seen were docked at the old Scarlet Enclave docks. Nearly a year has passed since it's destruction and up until recent weeks nothing in the area had really changed. Ebon Hold floated ominous above the Breach; Havenshire and New Avalon's ruins had molded and become festooned with weeds. Over the past year she'd stayed among the Argent Crusade helping them rebuild Western Plaguelands and Light's Hope Chapel. Over the months she found a measure of peace seeing greenery and health return to the land and the sting of her memories faded in equal measure to the growth around her.

But apprehension was welling up in her chest. Her scar itched when she thought about where they were going. Like the few of the Scarlet Onslaught before them they sailed for Northrend: to the heart of the Scourge. She'd heard what had happened to them though. The Horde, particularly the Forsaken had torn apart their supplies, morale and chain of command before the Scourge even got to them. By the time they faced the Lich King's forces they stood no chance. In the end Hearthglen burned as easily as New Avalon.

Hollie was with the crusade as a caretaker and novice healer. The Night Elf woman, Haidene started training her once she had recovered. Though it was beyond her ability to master the spells of Elune the priestess had observed that she had some talent with healing and soothing magic. She'd gotten Hollie an apprenticeship with the priests of Light. The little farm girl, never as strong as her older sister and never as pretty as her younger sister was going to be a Sister of the Light. She brushed off her new silk robes though there was no dirt on them.

Why was she ashamed of her own survival instinct? For a moment she considered going to the expedition commander and asking to stay. He knew what she'd been through and perhaps he'd understand. Then she remembered that most everyone on this voyage had similar experiences to hers, even worse for some. And here they strode onto the gangway with ease. Only a moments hesitation and Hollie did the same. She remembered boarding a ship years ago with her family to sail for Havenshire. Running away from the plague, running away from the anarchy that was already tearing Lordaeron apart, running away from sickness and death, from betrayal and despair.

'No more running' Hollie told herself, that was the purpose behind this venture, 'No more running'.

The journey around the Eastern Kingdoms was not so bad, but after they left the eternally calm and pleasant Quel'Thalassian waters behind Northrend's squalls and gales found them quickly. The plan was to land the Armada in Valiance Keep in Borean Tundra, re-supply, and then make their way to Icecrown through Dragonblight. The constant battering of half frozen waves and biting winter winds drove them of course quickly. They missed the Keep in the dead of night and narrowly avoided crashing their ships on jagged rocks and getting trapped the constantly growing ice flows. By the time they caught sight of land again they realized they were far from any safe port and would have to find another place to weigh anchor.

On board Hollie and the other healers treated sea sickness among the passengers and frostbite among the sailors. The crow's nests where filled with straw so lookouts didn't freeze to death while on duty. Rigging rats wrapped every bit of extra cloth they could find around their bodies and spent the better part of every day knocking ice off the masts and ropes. Again and again from the bow of the ship Hollie could hear the crash and crunch as the vessel broke through ice blocks. Just as the storm seemed to die down it picked up strength again and sent them past Borean Tundra all together and into the waters off the shores of Dragonblight. Finally a clear day broke and they found a reasonably safe harbor for the Armada. Though the sun shone brightly it was bitterly cold and Hollie was blowing on her fingers every other moment.

She didn't want to go above decks into the freezing wind but as the passengers and sick were loaded off she had no choice. The weather in Northrend seemed to scream at them as they lit fires and put up tents. Off in the distance, over the mountains Hollie could just see the dark spire of Icecrown. Yet even so close to the Lich King's throne she didn't really feel like this was the land of the Scourge. Dragonblight had an ethereal, magical quality about it. The trees were covered with flowers and leaves whiter than the snow and when the wind died down it became still enough to hear a ghostlike chime far off in the woods. The elves claimed it was the songs of forest spirits and wisps.

Apparently they had landed a short distance from an ancient Kaldo'rei city. The scouts reported a settlement further east, full of walrus-like fishermen. The commander hoped to negotiate with these natives for supplies and perhaps guidance over the terrain of Dragonblight.

The sun set quickly that day and Hollie and several others young healers huddled about a fire as a thin stew was cooked. She's only just arrived and she felt like the Argent Crusade's chances at even reaching Ice Crown had started to dwindle. The expedition remained camped for a few days as they struggled to negotiate with the walrus people to the east. The walrus men were kind but extremely disinterested with the Argent Crusade's mission. They didn't have much to spare and were very slow to make any decision. Finally after trading a great deal of silk string, wood salvaged from one of the ships, leather and rune cloth they were provided with seal furs, dried and salted fish, frostberries and medicinal herbs. The Walrus men refused to provide a guide but gave them a crude map of Dragonblight along with sage survival tactics. Despite the food they managed to acquire when they finally set off for the north every person was on the smallest feasible ration. The commander knew stores would run low quickly and wanted to get the most out of everything.

The march to Wrathgate was as long, grueling and miserable as anyone could imagined it would be. Everyday was made up of dragging horses, men and equipment through waist high snow drifts, constantly battered by icy winds. You never knew if that next drift was iced over and would hold your weight or if it would simply swallow you up. Frostbite and hypothermia plagued the crusaders even worse than it had on the ships. Hollie found herself trying to save the fingers and toes of a number of mages who seemed to think that a simple magma shield was enough to warm them. It made them feel warm but did nothing for their circulation or body temperature. After a week's travel a great temple became visible through the snowy veil. Many hoped they would go there for safety but the officers made it clear that humans were not welcome there. The place was sacred to dragons and they guarded IT as fiercely as a broodmother guards her nest. Indeed dragon bones were all that seemed to emerge from the snow in this area, she would think there was a spear of ice or a great rock protruding only to realize that it was the remains of a dragon larger than the ships she had come in on.

The day after the temple vanished into the ever present storms the bread store ran out. The last scraps of bread from the Eastern Kingdoms were given to the sick and weak. Those who could still walk were given hardtack from the ships, it deserved its name as it was riddled with maggot holes and usually frozen solid. The only real way to eat it was to wrap it up and place it under and arm and let body heat thaw it.

After two or three days the storms quieted and the sun taunted them. It shone with an intensity that rivaled deserts and yet did nothing to warm their beleaguered bodies. On one of those days Hollie and a few others had to pin down a man delirious with hypothermia. He believed he was perfectly warm and had begun dancing around and stripping his clothes. They finally managed to give him a sleeping draught and put him in a straw filled cart with the other ailing crusaders.

Finally after marching for over two weeks they reached Wrathgate. But to their surprise it was not heavily guarded. They made camp at the base of the mountains that evening. The winds grew stronger as the sun sank lower in the sky and snow was already building up against the tents. Supplies were dangerously low and they were far from any friendly outposts.

Hollie was sorely wishing now that she had found a way out of the expedition. She would have been better off if she had remained in the Western Plaguelands. She was not alone in that thought as most of the crusaders huddled in silence around tiny fires, trying to chew through frozen hardtack and dried fish.

Hollie feared that tonight they may lose the first people to the biting, merciless cold. Some of the mages and a paladin were in terrible shape and got no warmer no matter what the healers and doctors tried. As the sun set Hollie became aware of a commotion building in the center of the camp. She stumbled through snow drifts to see what was happening.

"I think we'll be doing better now." Said a young paladin behind her.

"Why?" she asked, not taking her eyes of the command tent.

"Because we're getting help from Dalaran."

Hollie shook her head.

"Its true!" he whined, "Some mages were sent by the council, I saw them when they teleported here. They wore the seal of Dalaran and were dressed all in purple."

The men had already entered the commander's tent and despite the rising wind and growing darkness many huddled outside waiting to hear of help. After an hour the commander and their guests emerged. They were indeed Dalaran mages and Hollie breathed a sigh of relief. Help was forthcoming, Dalaran would send them provisions and weapons, they would provide magical shelter from the winter chill, and the Argent Crusaders would be welcome in the great (now flying) city. No more time was wasted in pleasantries, the healers were anxious to have their charges taken care of before Northrend claimed them and everyone was scrambling to get a place in the first weather proof tents.

One of those was reserved for the sick and injured and to Hollie's relief most of them showed signs of recovery but the delirious Paladin was still suffering. Hollie tried to warm him with hot drinks and thick blankets but no matter what she did he still shivered and his flesh was still icy to the touch.

"Potions will not help him tonight." A High Elf woman startled her.

"Then what will?" Hollie couldn't restrain the bitterness in her voice.

"There are horses, or oxen on this expedition are there not?" the High Elf asked.

"Yes…" Hollie puzzled over the question for a moment, then jumped up and grabbed the nearest paladin pleading with him to bring two horses into the tent. The High Elf help her make a quick bed of straw and get the young paladin into it, they massaged his flesh to keep him warm while they waited. Finally the paladin came back with two big, furry horses in tow. Carefully he led them through the tent and by the elf's directions laid both of them down on either side of the freezing man. They gave the horses hay and draped blankets over the beasts and the man between them.

"I think those two are happy to be in here." The paladin said with a smile. Hollie wrung her hands staring at the lump of blankets between the horses.

"Are you sure this will work?" she asked the elven woman.

"It's the best we can do at this point."

Hollie spent the night leaned against one of the horses, occasionally burying her hands in the animal's thick fur. The horse, a mare, would always turn her head and neigh softly, even nuzzle her hair a bit. She reminded Hollie of her mother. As the sun inched over the horizon Hollie heard stirring in the straw, she assumed it was the other horse adjusting until she heard a sigh. She threw herself over the mare's body and dug through the blankets and straw. The color had returned to the young man's skin, his face was flushed with blood, and looked to be in a contented sleep. She pressed hand to his head; he was warm again, in fact he was almost a little too warm.

With some help from another healer she got him back into his bed, and led the horses back to their makeshift lodgings. The Argent Crusade was out of danger for now but they still had to surmount the mountains and armies standing between them and Ice Crown. She looked out towards the black spire teasingly close, reminding them that they had a continent to subdue before they could march on its gates.


End file.
